When the alarm clock went off at half past six, Martha gave a start. Many elderly people were in the habit of waking up early in the morning, but not her. In her world, it was an unchristian time of day for birds, villains and uncouth youths who hadn’t yet gone to bed. She unwillingly forced herself up, had a shower and got dressed. When the guards let her out at seven, she shuffled along to the kitchen at the end of the corridor. There were no kitchen islands and no fancy equipment either. Perhaps that was just as well; otherwise she would only have got confused. She got out the milk and the ham and cheese slices from the fridge, and found the oats and muesli in the cupboard. Cups and plates were on the shelves above the sink, and cutlery lay in the drawers underneath. Yawning, she boiled eggs, made some porridge—the old-fashioned way, in a saucepan—laid the table and put out bread, butter and marmalade. When she had finished, she flopped down on a chair with a cup of coffee in her hand. But she hadn’t laid a place for Liza, the chewing-gum girl. Her place at the short end of the table was empty.
The girls came in one after the other and Martha introduced herself. They said hello, sat down and began to help themselves. They were all eating their breakfast in peace and quiet, but when Liza came crashing in, everyone looked up. You could tell at a distance that the girl was in a bad mood and it didn’t improve when she discovered that nobody had laid her place at the table.
‘Where is my cup?’
‘I suppose it is in the cupboard,’ Martha answered.
‘Then put it on the table,’ Liza responded.
‘The plates are on the top shelf and on the lowest shelf you’ll find the cups. The glasses are by the sink.’
The girls stopped eating and the whole room fell silent. Martha ate her porridge and slowly stirred her coffee. Nobody could fail to notice the tension in the room, but Martha was too old to care.
‘Fetch the cup and lay my place too!’ Liza growled.
‘I might lay your place tomorrow, but that depends. I am extremely fussy about how people treat me.’
Liza gave Martha’s cup a shove and coffee splashed out onto the table. Martha, who had expected something of the sort, calmly filled the cup again and continued to eat her porridge. Then she turned to the girl next to her.
‘Is she always this difficult in the morning?’
No answer. Somebody coughed, a spoon clinked against a plate and the girls exchanged silent looks. The next moment, Martha felt somebody pull her chair back, grab hold of her blouse and yank her up.
‘My coffee!’ Liza roared.
‘There is tea too,’ said Martha, calmly taking the hands away from her collar. The girls all gasped, and then came a half-repressed giggle which spread. Soon they were all laughing. Liza glared at Martha, but knew that she couldn’t intervene. The girl had dominated the others by threatening to sort them out in the showers, but with Martha it was different. If she took an almost eighty-year-old woman there and beat her up, she would be the loser. She realized that, as did all the others in the room.
‘Take your breakfast, Liza, and I’ll do the washing-up later,’ said Martha.
Liza pretended not to hear, but she fetched a cup, poured out her coffee and sat at the short end of the table. Without a word, she buttered some bread, and when she had drunk her coffee she got up and left the room. Martha watched, and wondered how and when Liza would take her revenge.